


Indomitable

by FallenShandeh



Series: The Story of Noble Six [1]
Category: Halo
Genre: Other, Six Survives Reach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenShandeh/pseuds/FallenShandeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how my Noble Six survives Reach.</p><p>Requires having played the Reach campaign at the very least to understand backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indomitable

Noble Six knew she was going to die from the moment she stepped out onto the battlefield. Whether the glassing or the hordes of Covies still lingering planetside killed her, she was going to die.

The idea didn’t bother her at all. Never had, but now, it bothered her less than ever. Every single one of her team-mates was dead. She hadn’t heard a word from Jun in days, but during battles like Reach, missing and dead were one and the same.

Much to her surprise, their deaths actually bothered her. Quiet, commanding Carter. Smart-mouthed Kat - who had died in a way no Spartan ever wanted to, shot in the back of the head while running away. The Israeli zen motherfucker Jun. Older, taller, more experienced and somehow more _human_ Jorge, the SPARTAN-II. He’d gone out in a blaze of glory believing he’d just saved Reach. And Emile. Loud-mouthed, disrespectful but utterly lethal Emile. His had been a good death as well, and Six had swiftly avenged him.

Now it was time to get revenge on the Covie fuckers who had destroyed everything Reach had once been, killed her team-mates, and shattered her last shred of humanity.

She lost count of how many she killed before a carbine shot clipped her faceplate, shattering it completely. With an inhuman snarl, she pulled off her now-useless helmet, threw it at an Elite hard enough to take the fucker’s head off, and shook her hair out. Her jet-black curls were longer than regulation technically allowed, cascading over her armor down to her shoulderblades. There was no one to give a fuck about regulations out here. Not anymore.

Six gave in to her animal side, leaping from Covie to Covie ripping heads and arms clean off until one Elite caught her with an energy sword in the side. She hissed out an oath through clenched teeth and wrenched the sword out of the enemy’s hand, plunging it through the fucker’s abdomen only to take a glancing blow from another sword. Yet another Elite kicked her. No time to brace for it, she lost her balance and fell.

Death, she thought, was oddly unsatisfying.

There was a sound that seemed completely incongruous with the situation. The rat-tat-tat of a chaingun. Her mind refused to process it. All the Elites crumpled to the ground. Dead. They were dead.

Chaingun.

Backup.

Six hauled herself up, switching her energy sword to her left hand and picking up a plasma rifle. It was a useful loadout. She could drop their shields with plasma and then when she got close it was a simple matter to run the bastards through with the sword. She favored a sniper rifle and a couple of thousand feet but that didn’t mean she couldn’t switch to balls-deep tactics at the drop of a hat.

The Falcon that had come to her rescue landed behind her. She didn’t pay it much attention.

“Didn’t expect to see _you_ again,” Jun commented.

Six whirled and stared at him. “You’re one to talk. Where the fuck _were_ you?”

“I had orders, Six. Strictly need-to-know. Now get in the damn Falcon so we can get off this rock.”

Six bristled. _This rock_ was Reach. The second most important planet, strategically-speaking, in the whole of UNSC space. From here, the Covies could get to Earth. Easily. “This isn’t the first loss we’ve had,” she huffed, “but it’s for sure the worst.”

“I won’t disagree, but humanity will bounce back.” Jun bumped his shoulder against hers. “Humanity always bounces back.”

“I don’t know,” Six muttered. “I think the worst is yet to come.”

 

“How many deaths?”

“Incalculable.”

“Dot. How _many_?” Six insisted. “How many Spartans? How many Marines? How much have we lost?”

“Statistical likelihood of humanity surviving this war: almost nil.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You won’t get any answers,” Jun told her calmly. “No one knows exact numbers. It’s a miracle the _Autumn_ got away safely.”

Six nodded. “They have _her_ now. And they have _him_ as well. Together. They’ve got about as good a chance as they’re going to get.”

“It isn’t much.”

“It’s enough.”

 


End file.
